Sinful
by Tinque Abelle
Summary: Based on a tragically true story, "Sinful" is about a demented Muggle-born who commits a murder when he is harassed and called a "Mudblood". Read and Review please? [ Chapter Three is up. ]
1. Default Chapter

**Sinful**

_By: Tinque Abelle_

Disclaimer: Everyting related to Harry Potter is (c) J.K. Rowling. My goddess. Hee. Seth Stiles and Vincent Aries are (c) Havana ( Tinque Abelle. ) 

Author's Notes: This story was based on a tragically true story of a white boy who was murdered by his black friend for calling him 'nigger'. It tells about how much danage hatred can produce and hopefully, my audience will see that. While most fan-made characters tend to come out flawless and good, I've decided to take another route. Seth's thoughts do not align with mine, so ... don't think that I'm a psychopathic killer or anything. Hee. Enjoy and please leave a comment if you can. ^_^ Thanks. 

Also, I would like to give a deepest gtatitude to WaffleCat. Thanks for all you've done for me, darling. ^_^ 

**Chapter One**

_Mudblood. Possibly the most spiteful, poisonous, and taboo word that could be uttered in the wizarding world ..._

Blinding sunlight streamed through the windows of the Slytherin tower one chilly November morning. It gleamed brightly upon the traces of frost that framed the glass and illuminated the dormitory. There were four empty beds, emerald blankets, pillows, and bed sheets rumpled and messy; obviously, the residents of the dormitory had rushed quickly for breakfast and left their beds without hesitation. A fifth bed, which resided opposite to the window, was still occupied but its occupant was not sleeping at all. Shielding himself from the morning light, Seth Stiles had buried himself deep underneath the blankets, quivering and gazing at a framed photograph of his family. His _Muggle_ family. The faint sound of chattering and clamoring from the distant Great Hall caressed his ear. His stomach growled for nourishment but he did not want to join them. He hated people. Whenever he was in their presence, he was prone to being ridiculed or embarrassed. He would rather starve than face ... _them_. 

After what seemed like hours, he finally removed himself from the comfort of his bed. He so wished he could stay there in and be cradled in comfort and security, but alas, school beckoned him and he could not ignore his academic duties. The light continued to annoy him, it was so bright. Silently, he change into his Hogwarts uniform and tried to brush his hair down, as it was gotten so horribly tangled up during the night. His hair was long and black, falling upon his shoulders in soft, slight curls. From a distance, you'd mistaken Seth for a girl. Even up close, you might mistaken him for a girl -- Malfoy made sure he didn't forget that. 

When he finally came downstairs, everyone was retreating into their classes. _Perfect timing_, Seth thought, lightly jogging to Herbology. 

He had only _just_ made it to her class, which took place out in a massive greenhouse. Lush greens hung above them, letting streaks of sunlight penetrate through. Sinuous vines and flowers decorated the walls of the greenhouse, and in the middle was a long table holding numerous pots of various odd plants, each accompanied by a container of putrid brown material that was sure to be fertilizer. Just about everyone was clenching their nostrils and mouths to avoid inhaling the malodorous stench, their faces turning a light red or purple from the lack of clean oxygen. Professor Sprout was the only one who didn't mind the smell at all. Covering his nose as well, Seth entered the classroom and rolled his eyes as he walked over to an empty seat beside a tall blonde-haired boy known as Vincent Aries. On his other side was another slightly shorter boy, whose hair was a lighter blonde and was slicked back, known as Draco Malfoy. Both of them were friends of each other and used to constantly disrupt classes and as a result, Professor Sprout assigned Seth to sit in between them in an attempt to cease their disorderly behavior but now, all they seemed to do was bother and pick on him. 

"When I first got to class, I thought the smell was coming from _you,_" sniggered Vincent. 

Seth merely ignored the comment and kept his focus on Professor Sprout. Vincent was transferred from Durmstrang, another school for witchcraft and wizardry. He always followed Malfoy around like some sort of minion. 

"Oh, for goodness's sake; the smell isn't that bad!" exclaimed the professor. She was stout, and almost always sported a cheerful, humble smile. Her cheeks were cherry-colored, her nose was pointed, and her graying hair was always curly, . "This --" She grabbed a handful of the brown material and many students groaned with disgust. "--is Mooncalf Dung!" 

The hearty witch carried on with the class, explaining how efficient Mooncalf Dung was in the nourishment of several plants, both magical and non-magical, and why it can only be accumulated during the full moon. Some students, including Seth, were listening intently. Others like Vincent and Malfoy, however, were either dozing off, engaged in whispered conversations, or doing other things to satisfy their boredom. Aside from being seated in between Malfoy and Vincent, Seth actually rather enjoyed this class. His grades were decent, much unlike his status in his other subjects. Pretty soon, Professor Sprout asked them to deposit the Mooncalf Dung into the pots of plants that stood before them. With high repulsion, the students obeyed her as quickly as they could. Seth was having a bit of difficulty, as Vincent and Malfoy kept bumping their elbows into him ( And whether it was deliberate or not remained a question, though Seth was leaning towards the former. ) . 

Seeing Seth's struggle with the Mooncalf Dung, Vincent smirked. "Having a little trouble there?" 

Seth grunted. Why they relentlessly picked on him when he had never done anything to them was a mystery never solved. "I-If you'd stop bumping i-into me," he stammered quietly. His voice barely ever went a decibel higher from a whisper. 

Suddenly, he felt some fertilizer drop onto his shoulder and his eyes flung open in shock. "Whoops," said Vincent, grinning deviously. "_Sorry_." Malfoy and some surrounding students were howling in laughter. 

Seth gritted his teeth and glared at him with utmost hatred. The hunger for knocking him down onto the floor surged inside him powerfully but he couldn't -- for one, he was small and much weaker than Vincent. Also, he couldn't cough up the courage to do it. 

Vincent glanced around, noticeably taking in pleasure of the many laughing faces. "You oughta be more careful, Stiles." He flicked another small clump of the fertilizer at Seth's nose. 

Glaring at Vincent, Seth blushed and bit his lip. You did that on purpose, you ... you prat!" He said this so softly that he only embarrassed himself even more. Everyone was pointing and guffawing at him, covered in filth. Curious about why everyone was laughing, Professor Sprout stormed towards him with a flustered _expression; her eyes were bulging, her face was scarlet, and her fists were clenched.

"Mr. Stiles! What is the meaning of this? I demand an explanation at once!" This sounded very unnatural coming from her, since it was not often she became angry. 

"I'm not -- I didn't -- Vincent, he tried to -- oh ... I'll clean this mess up, Professor Sprout." Seth gazed down at his worn out shoes. 

Professor Sprout began engaging in a long tirade to the class about keeping the equipment and material in the class tidy, as they were rare, expensive, and required proper handling. Much to her pupils' relief, a bell signaled the end of the first class and everyone quickly exited the greenhouse, leaving Seth and an exasperated Professor Sprout behind. "I do hope you will be careful next time, for heaven's sake ..." 

Seth nodded. "Yes, ma'm." 

Transfiguration class was pushing his aggravation further as students were glancing at him, grimacing. He still reeked of Mooncalf Dung. While Professor McGonagall was trying to instruct the class about today's lessons, Seth's attention wandered away, aimlessly. People were still clenching their nose and distorting their faces in an offensive, ugly manner as if they were trying to express their disgust. . Right now, he just wanted to disappear. He certainly did not deserve this. McGonagall's lectures were beginning to scramble into nonsense through his ears. Why'd he have to be so damn weak? How would he let Malfoy and Vincent pick on him so much? The two were sitting in the back row, and thankfully, they were far enough from him where they couldn't do him any harm. Seth sat in the second row, behind ... _her_. She was the single most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her bushy, mousey locks seemed to shimmer every time she moved and her voice was music to his ears. Hermione Granger was, without a doubt, the most intelligent student at Hogwarts and yet, she was like him: a Muggle-born. Her parents had no wizarding blood. _His_ family had no wizarding blood but still, his grades were among the lowest in the class, if not _the_ lowest. He couldn't understand it, either. Perhaps Hermione was just talented ... 

Seth felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned his head around and let out a small gasp at the sight of Professor McGonagall towering over him with her lips thinned and her eyes staring at him behind a pair of glasses. Seth looked around and noticed that everyone was tapping their wands onto small, green lizards and turning them into glass jars. Some were turning into glass lizards, while others turned into green, scaly jars. The only person who seemed to have succeeded was Hermione, who was now guiding the person sitting next to her. 

McGonagall raised an eyebrow as his gaze returned to her. Nervously, he tapped the lizard in front of him with his wand and pretended to focus on the assignment. As she walked away to observe her other pupils, his eyes wandered off to Hermione again. For the first time today, he smiled a genuine smile. If only he had the nerve to approach her. He didn't feel this way about anyone else and yet he has never really talked to her. He managed a couple of greetings but she always seemed to be accompanied by her friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, and they preferred not to associate with _any_ Slytherin in any way. They sat together in a desk next to Hermione's, attempting to transform the reptiles into jars. 

By the end of class, almost everyone had completed their assignment. Everyone, however, did not include Seth, who was still staring at the lizard, clueless of what to do. The bell indicated the start of their lunch break, but Seth was the last to go. Professor McGonagall requested he talked to her before he left. "Mr. Stiles, is everything alright?" 

"Uhm ... yeah," he lied, "why do you ask?" 

"I am concerned about your performance in this class. You are aware of your marks in this class?" 

Seth twitch and looked down. "Yes, ma'm." 

"If you need extra tutoring, I would be more than happy to --" 

"It's okay, Professor McGonagall. I'll be fine. I've just got to practice more, I suppose." 

"See that you do," she sighed, "I'd hate to fail you, Mr. Stiles. I _know_ you can pass this class. You just have to try." 

Seth nodded and rolled his eyes as she dismissed him 

While everyone gathered into the Great Hall for lunch, Seth crept into the library. His hands were tucked into his pockets and he looked sinister. His coiled black locks were covering his face, making his eyes invisible, and he bore no traces of a smile. His face was pale and ghostly white, contrasting against the blackness of his cloak and hair. The only colors on him were the silver and green stripes of his Slytherin scarf that dangled fron his shoulder. 

Only a few people were in the library and they were completely submerged in their books. Seth wondered if they came in here to avoid social contact as well. He strolled over to the back area of the library, to get as far away from Madam Pince as possible. Running his finger through the spines of the books on the shelf, he finally stopped at one of them and pulled it out. It looked very worn out and ancient, and on the cover, it read, in very scratchy type, "History of Curses". He smirked and opened it up, coughing a bit as the dust flew from the pages and into his face. It was a wonder why the book wasn't kept in the Restricted Section. The text was hard to read, because the pages were so worn out. The pages were a sick yellow color and it smelled foul. His finger ran up the page quickly and then paused, finding the place he had left off last time: "The Unforgivable Curses". This was not the first time he had read this section; he had read it repeatedly and often snickered loudly at the notion of making Malfoy or Vincent suffer at his feet. Madam Pince frequently had to ask him to lower his voice. Seth would then try to refrain from further sniggering as he thought about making her writhe on the floor as well ... 

"I can't believe we're skipping lunch to study," sighed a recognizable voice. Curiously, he looked over at the desks that were located into the center of the library and saw Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, and -- Seth gulped down the lump in his throat -- Hermione Granger. 

"Well, I think it'd be good if you studied for your Potions test, Ron! Besides, you've had a big breakfast. You'll be alright," Hermione said. "I'm going to find some books over there--" She gestured towards the area where Seth was and he almost jumped --" and when I get back, you had better be studying!" 

Harry and Ron groaned as she left them. Seth frantically resumed his position and kept his eyes on the pages again, trying to look as if he was reading the whole time. He almost released a squeak when Hermione came over, right beside him, looking through the spines of the books inquiringly. She slowly departed from him, still scanning the books, looking for the right one. Lowering the book in his hands, Seth gazed at her again, his heart beating uncontrollably. "Hello there, Hermione," he murmured very quietly; the space between them guaranteed she wouldn't be able to hear him even if he talked in the volume most people conversed in. "How're you? I'm good. Hey, I-I was wondering if you'd go out with me s-sometime, I mean, if it's not too much trouble ... if you want ... to ..." He sighed hopelessly down at his book, quickly returning his gaze at her and regretting it, seeing that she was looking at him too. He waved at her and smiled as she waved back. He was so happy inside, he could die ... 

Biting down onto his lip, he went up to her and whispered a feeble "Hi." 

"Uhm ... hi," she answered. "Do you know the book 'History of Curses' is? It was here the last time I've seen it ..." 

"'History of Curses'? Oh, I-I've got it right here!" Seth closed the large book and handed it to Hermione. 

"Oh! Are you using it?" 

"N-No, not anymore. Here, have it." 

"Thanks ..." She looked at him with a questioning _expression. 

"Seth. Seth Stiles." 

"Ah, Seth. You're in my Transfiguration class, right?" 

He twitched. She forgot? "Yeah. Y-Yeah, that's right." 

They stood there for a moment, smiling nervously. "Well ... I've got to get back to my friends now. I'm trying to help them study for their Potions test tomorrow. Thanks for the book." 

She walked off and Harry and Ron glanced at Seth curiously and then to Hermione. "What are you doing hanging around _him_?" asked Ron. "Ugh, he reeks even from over here." He waved her hand under his nose, wafting the smell away. 

"_Ron_!" Hermione shook her head. 

Harry looked over at Seth with a face of discomfort and returned to his studies. His smile fading away, Seth looked down and exited the library. His hair curtained his face yet again, concealing his tears. 


	2. Chapter 2

**S I N F U L**

By: Havana Nguyen

Disclaimer: Seth Stiles, Vincent Aries, and the fanfiction "Sinful" is copyrighted by Havana; Harry Potter and everything that relates to the book series is copyrighted by J.K. Rowling. I am making no profit from this fic. Whee piggies.

Author's Notes: There is a graphic description about an implied sexual encounter ... but it is rather brief. Please read and if possible, take the time to review. You will be loved. 3

C h a p t e r  T w o 

            Seth lied in bed, staring up at the darkness. The only noises that penetrated the ominous silence were the soft, steady breathing of the other Slytherins in the dormitory. Usually, a brilliant silvery moonlight would have pierced the large window opposite of him and strike him right in the face but it was a heavily cloudy night. He began to wonder if he had gone blind, he had been staring at the darkness for so long. Was he closing his eyes? Where was up and where was down? Was he dead? He stroked his cheek with his fingers … he was still alive. "Stupid …" he muttered to himself. The cold, hard floor tickled his feet as he wandered off and exited the dormitory, heading towards the restroom …

            Turning on the vivid lights in the restroom, Seth nearly blinded himself and cursed under his breath. Blinking rapidly, he squinted to stare at his reflection in the massive mirror. The emerald green porcelain of the elegantly decorated restroom reflected the bright lights behind him. Stone statues of serpents adorned the facility, seemingly staring at Seth, waiting for him to erupt with insanity ...

            He sneered at his ghostly white, androgynous face, his coiled back hair, his frightening, colorless eyes. "Stupid," he whispers again, a tear rolling down his cheek. "Stupid, stupid, stupid--" he began ramming himself against the ceramic walls violently with each word "--Stupid! STUPID! STUPID! STUPID! STUPID!" He dropped to his knees and shrieked in an embarrassingly high tone, "**STUPID!**" 

Tears sprinkled the floor. A strand of saliva slithered out his mouth. He remained there, on all fours, shivering, sobbing uncontrollably. How could be so be weak? Why couldn't he stand up to people? Why did he feel so alone? He hardly ever screamed. The only time he had screamed  was when ... was when ... was when ...

He cried just thinking about it. A memory flickered through his mind like the shimmer of a flame. He remembered, lying in his bed, at home, his back facing the ceiling. Sweat and tears dripping down his distressed expression, his lungs inflating and deflating heavily, his body shaking, he felt a disturbing warmth trickling down his naked legs. A man with rumpled, black hair towered over him, grinning and sopping with sweat as well. "This will be our little secret, okay Seth?"

            "D-Dad," he whimpered. He was aching so excruciatingly from the waist down. 

            'Don't tell anyone, okay, Seth?" He gave no indication that he heard him. 

            "Dad," Seth gasped. His voice was stinging from screaming just a few moments ago.

            "Good night, son." He felt his father kiss him on his tear-stained cheek and flinched as he exited the bedroom. He so despised his father at this very minute, but quickly felt ashamed of his feelings. Still laying there with his soft pajama pants at his ankles and his slightly blood-stained white briefs, he felt completely paralyzed. How could he have been so weak? Why couldn't he fight back? Don't tell anyone, his father told him ... don't tell anyone.

            Seth shook the memory from his head and straightened up, finally starting to feel rather sleepy ...

            The next day, the entire Slytherin house were rolling in laughter when Malfoy and Vincent announced that they had found Seth sleeping in the Slytherin restroom.  Seth neglected the derision from all of the students and headed straight to his first class while everyone was collecting into the Great Hall for breakfast. The orange sunrise's rays reached across the skies today and in spite of this, it was freezing. Watching the clouds roam by above, Seth waited with a solemn face for his Care of Magical Creatures class to commence. His stomach was rumbling awfully loudly; one would question if it was his stomach or if a real live dragon was standing right behind them; he so wished he was capable of joining the breakfast feast without being harassed. Stroking his belly, he silently decided to sneak in the Great Hall during lunch period and grab some food. 

Without any warning, a booming noise caused Seth to jump back in surprise. The small hut in which he was standing by even shook a bit; apparently, its occupant, Hagrid, had just woken up from his sleep. Hagrid was a large fellow: about nine feet in height and three times the width of the average man. Without a doubt, he could probably rip out a tree without any effort. He could probably take down a giant if he had to. He could probably wrestle a dragon and possibly even win. What has always bothered Seth was the fact that although he was so physically powerful, why did he always wear such a compassionate, friendly smile? Why did he endure the malicious jeers of Malfoy and Vincent? Why did he serve Dumbledore? If he was half as strong as Hagrid was, he'd take orders from no one …

With a trace of weariness in his voice, Hagrid turned to Seth and blinked curiously. "Aren't yeh s'posed to be 'avin' breakfast, now?"

"Well, I'm not very hungry, thank you," he replied, his head sinking lower into his Slytherin scarf to repel the coldness.

"Yeh cold? Why don'tcha come in fer a bit?" He gave a light chuckle and welcomed Seth in. "Waitin' fer class ter start, eh? Tha' doesn't happ'n very often now, does it?" He chuckled yet again.

Seth moaned softly as the warmth of the little hut draped over him. It was so very small, yet so very big; it consisted of a single room, but it contained a large, comfortable-looking bed, a drawer, a cupboard, and a crackling fireplace. In the center was a circular table and a massive chair in which a large, black dog was settled in. He did not look fierce -- on the contrary, he was rather lazy and oafish, drool spilling all over the furniture.

"Seth, is it?"

Seth suddenly broke off from his trance and looked over at Hagrid, pausing a bit to realize what he had asked.

"Seth Stiles?"

"Erm, yeah. T-That's right." He tried to smile but it turned out crooked. He was not used to smiling much.

"Yeh want some tea or … anythin'?"

"Uhm, sure, if it's no trouble." 

Hagrid poured some tea into a teacup and handed to Seth. He smiled out of gratitude and then winced as the tea scorched his lips. The two of them remained quiet for a long while, occasionally bringing their teacups up to their lips and taking a sip. 

"Uhm ..." Seth stared at his tea. "How much time is ther-- I mean, how much longer until class starts?"

"Oh, er ... probably jus' a coupla' minutes." Both of them glanced at the clock and much to their disappointment, only a mere seven minutes had passed since they withdrew into the hut. Taking another sip of tea, Hagrid shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"So ... what are we d-doing today?"

"Oh, jus' reviewing today. We're gonna be moving into one o' them spare rooms in the castle, see?"

"But how is everyone going to know --"

"I've sent an owl ter ev'ryone already. I s'pose you didn't get one, seein' how yer skippin breakfast an' all." Seth had never received an owl. Ever. Except from his parents during this first year, whom wanted to confirm the fact that their son was safe at Hogwarts. 

            When it was time for the first class to start, Hagrid escorted Seth down into the dungeons and entered a gigantic, empty room. It was brightly lit by torches that hung on the walls, and there were numerous empty desks and chairs scattered around. "A lil' big, but ... " He nodded in satisfaction, his eyes traveling throughout the room.

            A group of Slytherins and Gryffindors soon flocked into the classroom, settling down in their chairs, two people to a desk. Harry and Ron were sharing a desk, leaving Hermione without  a place to sit; they quietly mouthed an apology to her. The only other empty chair was the one beside Seth, in the back row. Sitting erect with eyes flung open anxiously, he stared at her from the edge of his eye. She seem to nestle into her chair as softly as a feather and she smiled politely at Seth. He returned the smile and then blushed, hiding behind his black locks.

            Throughout the entire class, they were assigned to completely mainly bookwork, which bored not only the students but Hagrid, too. However, it was awfully difficult to study, seeing how the textbooks kept snapping at their hands and eating their papers. Many of the students bewitched them so they would be held down onto the table, others placed a sleeping spell on theirs. Having forgotten his book, Seth had to share Hermione's. He was so anxious and nervous, being so close to Hermione, that Hermione often had to wait an additional minute to two to let him catch up. 

            By the end of class, the books became more aggravated and rumbled wildly. The sleeping spells that were cast onto the books were wearing off. Seth snickered as Malfoy's book bit him. Hagrid permitted everyone to talk during the last five minutes of class, so Hermione picked up her book and strolled over to Harry and Ron. Seth tried to get her to stay but alas, she escaped his grasp again. If only he had the confidence to approach her ...

            He suddenly gave a squeal as he felt one of his black curls being pulled. "He squeals like a little girl," laughed Vincent. "Who're you lookin' at, Stiles?"

            Seth back away form him with an angry expression, his cheeks reddening.

            Malfoy sniggered. "I think he's got a little crush on that Mudblood girl, Granger." 

            "I-I do not!" he lied. 

            Vincent and Malfoy tugged at his hair again and their laughter deepened as Seth struggled away, making squeamish noises. As he tried to retreat from them, Vincent stepped onto his cloak, making him trip and fall. All eyes were now targeted on him, and he shuddered as the sound of laughter ran through his head. He rose and looked around; the only person who wasn't laughing was Hermione, who was glaring at Malfoy and Vincent. Hagrid even looked as if he were trying to keep in a little chuckle. Seth's face was curtained by his black curls yet again, as he muttered under his breath, "Let me disappear, let me disappear ..."

            The following class was Charms, conducted by the tiny Professor Flitwick. Usually, Seth would perform decently in this class but today, he couldn't concentrate, not after the episode in Care of Magical Creatures Class. Inside his mind, he kept beating himself up and reminding himself of how worthless and weak he was. His stomach was aching so badly now that his eyes actually began to water. Vincent and Malfoy kept pointing at Seth and chortling quietly. Seth wanted to yell, "I'm not crying, you stupid gits!" but he didn't. He couldn't. And he hated himself because he couldn't. Trying to cheer himself up, he again imagined the two of them writhing at him feet in utmost pain as he performed a Cruciatius Curse on them; he smiled a bit to himself. 

            When lunchtime arrived, Seth ran into the Great Hall, fighting the bustling crowd. As he sat himself down, foods blossomed out of nowhere in front of him and he started to devour as much as he could, his mouth watering like mad. There were plates of chicken, fruits, vegetables, bread -- Seth had felt like he had died and gone to heaven. Hopefully, no one would distinguish him from the crowd and make a fool out of him again. Finally pausing for a gulp of juice from a nearby goblet, he noticed that some people were staring at him oddly. His face was boorishly covered in scraps of food and he behaving in a piggish way. He felt a little tap on his shoulder and with much reluctance, he turned around and saw Malfoy, Vincent, Crabbe, and Goyle. "This is our spot, Stiles," Malfoy hissed. "Now MOVE."

            "I will not be weak," Seth commanded to himself under his breath, not budging.

            "What was that?"

            "I-I was here first." Seth tried to glare at them. 

            Vincent's face drew up towards his, their noses barely touching. "MOVE, Stiles." They stared stubbornly into each other's eyes forever until Seth finally sighed and removed himself from his position. Malfoy, Vincent, Crabbe, and Goyle quickly took their seats and began feasting upon their lunches . Seth looked back and then retreated into the library, where he seemed to belong.

A fleeting feeling of fear struck him as he remembered that there will be a test in Potions class today. He panicked and wanted to study but he couldn't, now that he was already in the class, quivering in his seat. Everyone seemed nervous, even Hermione, although she held her head up high. Professor Snape stood before his students, seemingly grinning cruelly at their quiet distress. His appearance was much like Seth's: colorless. His black hair was greasy and it fell lifeless down the sides of his face. His dark eyes were abysmal and his voice was low and strained. Seth was like a younger version of him, minus his curly hairstyle and the fact he couldn't even persuade anyone to do anything if this life depended on it. Seth, like many other Slytherins, took in great pleasure when he tormented Harry about his errors or took away ludicrous numbers of points from Gryffindor.

However, Seth himself was not very efficient in potion-brewing. Snape often shook his head in utter disappointment and that made him feel completely useless but for some reason, he treated him with more compassion than he did with the other students. His compassion was terribly subtle; he still scorned him about following instruction properly but somehow, Seth saw a trace of sympathy in his dark, dark eyes. 

A small cauldron was slammed onto his desk. Seth jumped in his seat, startled. Everyone now had an individual cauldron and immediately began following the directions that appeared on the blackboard. Hesitant, he began carefully brewing the assigned potion, which was a most complicated and tedious task. He made certain that he was stirring the exact number of times, that the dried newt was crushed into a very fine powder, that the precise amount of Bundimun secretion was added -- CLANG. The entire class shook in alarm as a cauldron shattered onto the floor. Neville Longbottom, Seth noticed, was standing over the mess, his face stricken with horror. Snape rushed over to him so quickly that he looked like a shadow gliding across the classroom; his eyes bore down into Longbottom sternly and he scorned him harshly. Quickly, Seth returned to his assignment and panicked, seeing that it was bubbling while no one else's was. What had he done wrong? A snigger caught his ear; he turned his head over to the side and found Vincent smirking. "I think you've messed up, Stiles," he whispered.

Looming towards him ,Snape stared at Seth's bubbling cauldron and shook his head. "Mr. Stiles, can you read?"

Seth looked at him with fright. "Yes, s-s-sir."

"So tell me, what does number six tell you precisely what to do?"

"Mix in two cups of Essence of Belladonna and stir counter-clockwise five times --"

"I see it says nothing about adding--" He sniffed the bubbling potion briefly --"Hippogriff talons. Tsk tsk tsk."

            "But sir, Vincent's the one who--"

            "Don't accuse others for your own wrongdoing, Stiles. Five points from Slytherin. Evanesco!" The bubbling potion evaporated and Seth was left with an empty cauldron and the professor wandered off towards Harry Potter, criticizing him and assigning him an essay.  

            That night, Seth had actually managed to swipe a roll from the Great Hall before withdrawing into the Slytherin commonroom. He loved being in the commonroom alone. No one could push him off of the black leather seats, or hog the warm fireplace, or taint the beauty and the luxury of the room, which was ornamented with serpents just like the bathroom. There was an ominous splendor to this room that could not have been described; although the colors were mainly dark and sinister, they made you feel powerful. Snuggled into a large chair by the fire, he started to work on his homework as quickly as possible, his quill scratching feverishly against the parchment. 

            Just about finished, Seth finally heard commotion inching closer and closer and decided to put away his books and completed work. A small group of Slytherin first years infiltrated the room; one of them had tears streaming down her eyes.  "I can't believe my parents are divorcing!" she bawled. Two other Slytherin girls were trying to console her, with their hands on her shoulders. "How can they do this to me?"

            Rather relieved that it was Malfoy or Vincent, Seth sighed and felt a little empathetic for the girl's misfortune. He possessed knowledge that could tear up the marriage of his parents. He remembered when he had once overheard his mother talking to someone on the telephone in a very flirtatious way, giggling and teasing and using a seductive, sugary voice that Seth had never heard her use. When he asked who was speaking to, she slapped him across the face and demanded him never to speak of it to his father.  Of course, his father never found out that his dear wife was having affairs ... and she never found out that her husband ...

            "Don't tell anyone, okay, Seth?" These words rung through Seth's mind incessantly. He could still feel his father's hands, roaming all over, and his breath against the back of his neck ... 

                More people invaded the commonroom and Seth hurried off to his dormitory.


	3. Chapter 3

Sinful

By: Havana 

Disclaimer: Seth Stiles, Vincent Aries, and the fanfiction "Sinful" is copyrighted by Havana; Harry Potter and everything that relates to the book series is copyrighted by J.K. Rowling. I am making no profit from this fic. 

Chapter Three 

He jolted up, startled, as he felt a loud thud on the desk he was laying his head upon. His gaping eyes looked up at Madam Pince, and winced at her stern expression. "The library is not for sleeping. Either work on something or leave," she ordered, walking away. Rubbing his eyes, he looked around. He sat there in an isolated table in the cent of the library while other people were chattering or reading, occasionally peeking over at him and giggling. Drowsily, he released a great yawn and looked down at a book that he had begun reading before he fell into a deep slumber. The past few days had been terrible -- Snape and McGonagall were giving him double -- no, triple -- the amount of homework he was usually assigned in hopes of getting him to improve in Potions and Transfiguration. Right now, he was trying to resist the lullaby of the text in his book. 

                His next class was History of Magic, which did not help his drowsiness any.  Professor Binns was the only ghost professor in the school and his classes were always terribly monotonous. Even looking at the interior of the room was enough to render you asleep. As the professor droned on and on, Seth's eyelids just grew heavier and heavier … he was supposed to be taking notes but he was just doodling various little demon-like vermin all over the sides of his paper. They stirred into life and flew around on his paper, beating each other up. Seth chuckled, watching the little fight, but soon, it became horribly repetitive. A sharp tap struck his elbow from the side. A red-headed Ravenclaw had woken him up and gestured toward Professor Binns, who was crossing his arms. "Mr. Stiles, do pay attention. The rest of you better listen closely as well. As I was saying, I am assigning you into pairs to work on a project and I do not want to hear a _groan _from any of you." He coughed and lifted a piece of parchment , adjusting his glasses so he would read what he had previously written on there. "Ms. Knightlyn, you will be paired with Mr. Goyle."

                Knightlyn, the red-headed Ravenclaw who had woken Seth up form his slumber, looked at Goyle and they exchanged disgusted faces.

                "Mr. Royal, you will work with Mr. Morris. Mr. Richards and Ms. Bulstrode, you two will work together. Mr. Crabbe will be paired with Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Stiles?"

                Seth sat up, hoping not to get --

                "You will work with Mr. Aries." 

                Seth and Vincent looked at each other, sneering venomously like two serpents, ready to strike. 

                …

                With his books scattered across his four-poster bed in the Slytherin dormitory, Seth cringed with revulsion as the thought of working with a partner crossed his mind. Another human being. He utterly detested having to work alongside another person. People were so terribly spiteful and malicious. People made him _sick_. Especially people like Vincent. However, he desperately needed a high mark on this assignment; he was failing History of Magic. Writing a research paper on the history of a few select renowned witches and wizards shouldn't be that complicated, after all. Oh, but if only he could work on this alone.

                After a while, he started to mindlessly stare at the wooden floor below, breathing heavier as the minutes passed by. As the sun crept gradually into the distant horizon, bathing his pale skin in a soft, orange glow, he wondered where his partner was. Fists clenched onto the dark green velvet blankets under his rear while one thought popped up in his  mind: he forgot. He forgot. Well. How could he not? No one remembered Seth, after all. He simply did not matter. He was just ... there. Neglected by his parents because he was different -- he was somehow endowed with wizard blood while his brothers remained ... Muggles? Then of course, he is neglected by the Hogwarts students and treated with extreme prejudice by because he was a Slytherin -- he flinched, remembering Harry Potter's fierce glare at him on a previous day -- and he was rejected by most of the Slytherins because he was Muggle-born. Shaking the painful thoughts out of his head, he bit down on his lip._ I should focus on the project_, he thought. Flustered and exhausted, I decided to get started on the damn assignment. 

                Seth nearly dropped his quill when a boisterous laughter and loud, thumping footsteps entered the room. Looking up, he noticed it was Vincent. Faint, cluttered conversations were coming from down below. The other Slytherins must've been gathered in the commonroom. "W-what took you so long?"

                Vincent hesitated and looked confused for a moment. "Oh! Forgot all about the project," he answered, smirking mischievously. "So, did you start on it yet?"

                Seth twitched and lightly reddened from irritation. The least Vincent could have done was offer an apology. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he replied, "Actually, I have--"

                "Uh … is this all you have so far? You do know that the project is due tomorrow?" Vincent eyed the opened text books and scattered parchment across his bed. Apparently, Seth had managed only to fill up a page and a half with his rather sloppy handwriting. "Okay, you've got the dates wrong here … it's actually _1782 _ when he died, see."

                Hesitant, Seth crossed out the incomplete date and replaced it with "1782".

                "Oh, and you spelled her name wrong. It's two r's, not one." He pointed at the correct spelling of the witch's name in the textbook as Seth sighed and marked out his typo.

                The two of them began laboring over the project, thoroughly at first, but then it was quite clear that Vincent was trying to finish as quickly as he could. Quietly frustrated, Seth tried to quicken his pace as well. The light streaming from the windows were dimming as they progressed.

                "Stiles, watch it!" Seth had accidentally knocked over his bottle of ink onto the floor, spreading the black liquid as if it were bleeding. "_Stiles!_" 

                "W-what? Oh." Without even knowing it, he was transfixed on the bleeding ink bottle. 

                "Well? Clean it up, you idiot," the blonde-haired boy spat.

                Biting his lip again, he tapped the spill with his wand, only swelling it. His teeth bore deeper into his lip.

                "Oh, I'll do it _myself!_" Seth looked at him with fearful apprehension as Vincent tapped the spill, resulting in its repair. "See? It's not hard at all -- what … are you _crying_, Stiles?"

                "W-what?" He blinked away the little tears forming in his eyes. "I've just got s-something in my eye …"

                Obviously unconvinced, Vincent shook his head and smirked in amusement. They silently continued their assignment. Seth was seething inside. He felt so stupid and foolish, and his partner's malevolently amused grin was not helping. Finally, he had completed his share of the project while Seth was still struggling with his. Watching him toil over the piece of parchment and constantly looking back to refer to his textbooks was growing less and less entertaining for the blonde-headed boy. "Stiles, are you finished _yet?"_

"Erm … no …" He blushed.

                "Well, finish it up! You better look over those dates, too. If I get a failing grade …"

                "… I'M _TRYING_."

                "You dare to raise your voice at _me_, Stiles? I'm the one who finished!"

                "W-Well, I _would _finish if y-you'd just stop yellin--"

                "What, can't even handle it? Look, Stiles, you've messed up the date again! It's _1780_, not 1870!" Vincent rolled his eyes and gave a heavy, exasperated sigh. His eyes wandered off to the side, upon Seth's night table, and he picked up a framed photo, which pictured a bunch of dark haired people crammed up against each other, without the owner's consent. "This your Muggle family?" He examined it a bit, unaccustomed to the still photographs that originate from the Muggle world. There were about five or six boys with short dark hair -- some wore their hair very messy, others wore it slick and neat, and one of them, whose skin was the lightest out of the bundle, had black hair running down to their shoulders. "That you?"

                Seth lowered his eyelids slightly and nodded. 

                He chuckled derisively. "Thought you had a little sister for a moment there."

                Seth twitched.

                A tall, skinny dark haired man stood in the picture as well, alongside a woman. "Your mother is unbelievably fat, Stiles." He laughed at his own comment and glanced at Seth, who was gritting his teeth. "Pathetic Muggles."

                Seth jolted up from his hunched position, knocking over the ink bottle again and sending a couple of pieces of parchment onto the floor. "Take that b-back," he muttered, locks of black, ruffled hair over his eyes. 

                Vincent laughed again, only  a little louder and more offensive this time. "What're you going to do about it, _Mudblood_?"

                The poisonous word drilled into Seth's chest. "T-Take it back!" Tears were beginning to cultivate again.

"Awww, Mudblood's gonna cry. Going to send a letter to your dear, old, fat Mum? You'd better get back to your homework -- of course, I would imagine that a Mudblood like you could finish it as quickly as a pureblood like I can."

By now, Seth's anger was fizzing viciously. He felt the sudden need to clamp his hands onto his skull to stop the anger and aggression. Fire in his cheeks and ears burning, he felt a potent urge to makehimsuffermakehimsuffermakehimsuffer. He wanted him to suffer, his mother to suffer, his father to suffer, his sisters, his friends, his girlfriend, his teachers, everyone associated with him had to suffer.

                "Take it BACK!" In a swift movement, he reached for his wand and aimed it at him. "_Crucio_!"

                Vincent's sudden bewildered and traumatized reaction was stained on Seth's mind. Something seemed to be bubbling under Vincent's skin as she writhed in agony, collapsing onto the floor, clutching his sides and whining in pain. It seemed so surreal, to see Vincent, a renowned bully, to whimper and cry like this. He was shaking violently, uncontrollably, begging for it to stop. Something about his beseech brought a cruel pleasure to him … 

                "_Imperius_!"

His eyes were shot open and his limbs lied by his side flaccidly, like a marionette puppet. The spell allowed him to control him with a flick of his wand; he still felt the need to makehimsuffermakehimsuffer because he had made _him_ suffer for so long ... Seth felt like a superhero, vanquishing the evil supervillian. By his command, Vincent scoured over to his drawer beside his bed and hunted relentlessly for the pocketknife that his father gave him. "Pull out the blade ... pull it out," Seth whispered behind gritted teeth. "Pull it out ..."

                Vincent drew out the shining blade, his expression still blank. The dark-haired boy grinned. "Do it ... DO IT."

                The contradictory voices in Seth that pleaded him to stop this act or malice came to an abrupt stop as Vincent crammed the knife into his chest cavity, with a face of such intense terror and pain that it made him difficult to look at. He collapsed onto the floor with a deafening thud. Seth stared at him, eyes wide open in disbelief. Did he twitch? Did he look away? Did he break down in tears? Seth felt nothing. _Nothing_. The voices had abandoned him, as if they were running to evade being caught in the scene. Quietly, he stared at his pale, dead body on the floor, his eyes wide open and his mouth gaping like he tried to finish his last gasp of air. He could not hear anything nor smell anything, everything was focused on the sin he had committed. _Did I really do this? Did I really get rid of him?_ No more taunting from him … no more suffering. Seth had madehimsuffermadehimsuffer, finally. Now he felt excited. He felt _alive_. He felt awakened.  A terrible but wonderful orgasmic euphoria swept across his body. Seth almost had to keep himself from laughing aloud.


End file.
